


I Can Read Your Love On My Skin

by kaitlia777



Category: Glee
Genre: Artist!Sam, Future Fic, M/M, Rimming, Sexy fun time with paint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Sam get up to some fun at home after Sam has a moment of artistic inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Read Your Love On My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired partially by this gif: http://blaineandsamevanderson.tumblr.com/post/42814540516#notes  
> It’s not mine, I just re-blogged it!

When Sam and Blaine first arrived in New York (to attend the Pratt Institute and NYADA, respectively), Blaine had to do some fancy talking to convince Sam to live with him rent-free in the brownstone his parents had purchased for him as a graduation present. Sam had stubbornly insisted that he could live on campus, not in a place he could never in 1 million years afford and Blaine insisted they should take advantage of his obscenely rich parents who threw money around in lieu of affection.

When logic didn't work, Blaine broke out the puppy eyes and said he didn't want to be alone…so, of course, Sam caved without further fuss.

The big old building had been empty, but in great shape, with a newly modernized kitchen and bathrooms. In the months before their classes started, they renovated everything to their liking, painting the walls, furnishing the place and turning the large basement into a gym/dance studio and music room with acoustic paneling. A bright, airy room on the first floor facing the rear garden became Sam's art studio (he was studying art, so Blaine insisted he needed the studio). Piece by piece, they collected furniture from consignment shops (though Blaine had made sure brand-new mattresses and bed frames were waiting in their rooms when they moved in), as Sam proved to be a pro at refinishing wood pieces and making them look incredible for pennies.

Sam just ignore the fact that Blaine stocked the kitchen with new gadgets, pans, silverware, plates, cups, etc…. Accepting the explanation that he would've done so whether or not Sam was there.

They were standing in a secondhand shop on a sweltering August morning, considering a low bench with several drawers that Sam insisted he could strip of the lurid purple paint that covered it.

“It would look nice in the foyer,” Blaine commented after time. “We could get some cushions, sit on it to put our boots on in the winter.”

Sam nodded. “And the drawers would be good for hats, gloves, scarves... I could get a piece of lumber and some hooks and make a coat rack to mount on the wall behind it.”

Teasingly, Blaine grinned, “I do love the man who can rock a tool belt.”

“So that's why you watch so much PBS,” Sam replied cheekily. “Bob Vila does it for you!”

With a laugh, Blaine said, “Okay, let's get this thing.”

As they purchased the bench, the older lady running the register smiled at them and said, “You two are the cutest couple I've had in here in ages.”

Blaine had been stunned into silence while Sam simply said, “Thank you!”

As they carried the bench out to the car, Blaine told him, “She thinks we’re together.”

Sam gave him a funny look. “We are.”

“A couple.”

“Oh,” Sam said simply, then cocked his head to the side. “You know, we kind of are. Minus the kissing and sex parts.”

Rolling his eyes, Blaine drawled, “Yeah, minus those and then there's the fact that you’re straight.”

“I'm bisexual.”

Almost dropping his end of the bench, Blaine gaped and asked, “What? You never said that before.”

“No one asked,” Sam replied easily as they heaved the bench into the trunk. “And apparently my flirting sucks if you never even got a hint that I'm attracted to you….”

His words were cut off as Blaine pressed him against the side of the car, kissing him with months of pent-up attraction and desire. Blaine had accepted that Sam would never love him as anything other than a friend, but now that there were options on the table….

Yeah, enough time had been wasted.

Over the next few years, they grew into their new life together, living in the performing and visual arts rich world of New York City. Their eclectic group of close friends, Kurt, Adam, Rachel, Puck, Santana, Brittany and Sam's frankly insane art school buddies, all impacted their lives in different ways. Sam's high school jock style gained a bit of bo-ho flair and planes preppiness lost its intensity when he ditched about half of his hair gel. Occasionally, Sam still felt the need to run down to Kentucky, visit his family and immerse himself in some kind of County fair, but he grew comfortable having tea (coffee for Blaine) and bagels on their balcony, discussing what Blaine was reading in the New York Times.

One of the changes Blaine liked best was watching Sam flourish as an artist. He'd always been skilled, but Pratt allowed him to experiment with different mediums. He still loved drawing and wanted to illustrate comics, but painting had stolen a place in his heart.

Entering Sam's studio, Blaine smiled to see Sam standing barefoot on the newspaper strewn floor, a huge canvas against one wall. He was wearing overalls and a ratty white T-shirt, both liberally splattered with paint and there was a bold streak of blue in his hair, the tint of which would cling to Sam's blonde locks for at least a week.

Completely oblivious to his hair, Sam was gazing contemplatively at his latest piece. “It's interesting,” Blaine commented, trying to discern exactly what the swirls and bursts of color were supposed to represent.

Sam turned to him and held out a hand. “C’mere. You're looking at it from the wrong angle.”

Crossing the room, Blaine took Sam's hand and allowed himself to be pulled into a prone position on the floor, his head only a few feet from the base of the canvas.

“Oh,” he breathed, looking up the painting which, from this angle, looked like fireworks exploding in the night sky. “Sam, it's beautiful.”

Call his palette (with regards to art) unrefined, but he liked it when art looked like what it was supposed to be. A person should look like a person, a flower a flower.

“I'm pretty happy with this one,” Sam agreed, turning his head to smile at Blaine. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blaine replied, squeezing their still joined hands. “You have paint in your hair again.”

“What color?”

“Blue.”

Sam shrugged. “I can work with blue,” he laughed, then reached out to cup Blaine's jaw with a paint stained hand, drawing him in for a kiss. Blaine happily moved into the contact, shifting to roll atop Sam's larger frame, pressing their bodies close together.

Humming his approval, Sam slid his hands up under Blaine's sweatshirt, fingers pressing lightly into muscles still sore from dance class, easing the ache. Blaine himself fought with the straps of Sam's overalls, internally half annoyed that they were laying down.

Had they been upright, gravity would've been on his side and Sam's pants would've simply fallen to puddle around his feet.

Before he had much of a chance to protest the injustice, Sam was hauling Blaine's shirts off as he said, “I want to do something!”

“What?” Blaine asked as Sam rolled them over, then flipped Blaine onto his stomach, straddling his ass and running strong hands up his back. “I massage? I'm not going to say no….”

“No,” Sam murmured, and Blaine gasped to feel one of Sam's fingers, cold and slick, trays and arcing line from his spine around his shoulder blade.

It took Blaine only a moment to realize Sam was painting him, using his back as a canvas. His mouth went dry as he asked, “What are you doing?”

“You'll see,” Sam replied, leaning forward to carefully brush a kiss against the nape of Blaine’s neck.

Resigning himself to the crazy whims of his boyfriend, Blaine rested his chin on his hands and let Sam do his thing. It was actually pretty relaxing, lying there and enjoying the gentle but sure strokes of Sam's fingers….

He must've dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Sam was urging him to his feet and leading him upstairs. Blaine was only vaguely aware that Sam and kicked off his overalls until they were in the bedroom, standing in front of the mirror mounted over the dresser.

Random smudges of paint littered Blaine's chest and he raised a hand to scratch one, but Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him around, raising a small hand-held mirror so Blaine could see the reflection of his back.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw the wings salmon painted on him, large, off-white wings with hints of gray, brown and blue shot through them. They seemed to emerge from his skin on either side of his spine and arch up over his shoulder blades, then stretched down over his ribs toward the small of his back.

“Sam,” he murmured softly, wanting to touch the wings but not wanting to chance ruining them. “Can you take a picture?”

“Yeah,” Sam readily agreed, pulling Blaine’s phone from his pocket and moving around to get a good shot. Then he stepped in close to Blaine's chest and kissed his neck, wrapping an arm around him and snapping a picture of their joined reflection in the mirror.

He showed that one to Blaine. Neither of their faces were visible, dark and fair heads bowed together and Blaine's arms were hidden, wrapped around Sam's body, causing the wings to appear even more prominent. One of Sam's arms was raised, taking the photo, but the other hand rested on Blaine's hip.

It was a fairly stunning picture.

Carefully, Sam set the phone down on the dresser before cupping Blaine’s jaw and drawing him into a soft, warm but passionate kiss. Blaine sighed happily into his mouth, pulling him close, wanting in closer and grinning when he felt Sam's hands fall to his fly.

Kissing a path to Blaine's ear, Sam sucked the lobe into his mouth before whispering, breath hot and heavy, “I'm going to lick you until you can't think and then you're going to write me. I want to watch us in the mirror.”

Blaine moaned, completely on board with that idea and scrambled to help Sam remove the rest of their clothes. Once naked, Sam eased him down onto the bed, bent over the side with Sam kneeling behind him. A playful nip to the soft skin where ass became thigh made him yelp, but Sam soothed the minor offense with a gentle kiss. His hand ran reverently over Blaine's bottom, cupping the firm muscles and squeezing rhythmically before parting his cheeks.

Shivering at the first puff of warm breath over sensitive skin, Blaine groaned when Sam peppered small, open mouth kisses over the newly revealed skin. He was sure he'd never get tired of the field of Sam's lips on his body, plush and perfect, firm and full….

The flick of Sam's tongue over his hole made Blaine gasped, contact sending a shock of arousal straight to his already aching dick. Blaine had always been sensitive there and Sam delighted in discovering that fact, enjoyed driving Blaine to the edge like this.

Blaine's focus narrowed down to the feel of Sam's tongue, lapping over him, plunging in past twitching muscles, and his own tingling cock, leaking where it was trapped under his belly.

“Oh God, Sam,” he choked when Sam scraped his teeth delicately over Blaine's opening, a move that never failed to rip a broken sob from Blaine. He shuddered as Sam kept up the little kitten licks, one slick finger sliding into Blaine, then another, another, stretching quivering muscles.

“You don't even know how you look,” Sam moaned, voice hoarse and low in a way it only got when he was deeply aroused. He worked his fingers diligently, brushing over Blaine's prostate over and over, making him cry out. “So beautiful. A debauched angel. My angel.”

“Please!” Blaine sobbed, knowing he was close and not wanting to cum before Sam was buried in his body. “Now!”

Sam pulled his fingers free and placed a final kiss on Blaine's ass, tongue diving deep, before climbing to his feet and settling on the bed beside him. His cock was flushed and full, straining up against his abs and Blaine heaved himself up, throwing a leg over Sam to straddle him.

Wasting no time, he took hold Sam's cock, and act that pulled a moan from him, and pressed the head to his entrance, sliding down in one long, smooth motion. The stretch and burn of being filled was a relief, the loop Sam had used to stretch them just enough to keep things from being uncomfortable. When he finally settled fully onto Sam's lap, he wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and kissed him, hard and sloppy, both of them too far gone for anything else.

Rolling his hips sent little jolts of pleasure through Blaine, but it wasn't nearly enough and soon he began to rise up, slamming himself back down onto Sam's cock with increasing speed. One of Sam's hands landed on his hip, helping him move up and down, while his other palm wrapped around Blaine’s cock, jerking him off in time with their thrusts.

“Look,” Sam gasped, pulling his mouth away from Blaine’s for a moment. “Over… Mirror….”

Glancing back over his shoulder, Blaine saw himself riding Sam's cock, muscles flexing in his back as he did so, making the wings look like they were moving. Sam's eyes were visible in the mirror, watching the reflection with this sort of hunger that made Blaine's belly clench.

He came with a harsh cry, muscles twitching, then seizing up as he thrust into Sam's hand, cum splattering over his smooth abs and chest. Gasping, Blaine slumped against Sam, mouthing at his neck as Sam gripped his hips hard and bucked up into him a few final times, finding his own release. Blaine murmured softly as Sam continued to make small movements, softening cock sliding to the extra lubrication provided by his cum. 

When Sam fell back onto the bed, Blaine went with them, curling on his chest, content to lay there. Eventually, they would have to get up and wash the sweat, cum and paint off of their bodies, but for the moment, none of that seemed to matter.

For the moment, everything was perfect.


End file.
